


Strange Coincidences

by sweatybitch



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autistic Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Closeted Character, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Moreid, Online Dating, Reid really loves his coffee, Social Media, Tinder, and Garcia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweatybitch/pseuds/sweatybitch
Summary: It's a Match!Spencer Reid is a technical analyst.Derek Morgan is a criminal profiler.On the surface, they're nothing alike - the one thing they share being their status at FBI agents. Despite this, they go about their lives blissfully unaware of each other's existence ... until one day Spencer Reid is coerced into downloading Tinder.
Relationships: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/William LaMontagne Jr., Moreid - Relationship
Comments: 55
Kudos: 226





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to: my genius co-writer, cath, and the rest of the #1 matthew gray gubler haters groupchat :)
> 
> also uploaded to fanfiction.net under lovesfake
> 
> inspired by: https://www.instagram.com/p/B0HHgYkHyoe/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Another day, another case.

For someone so luddite, you wouldn't expect Spencer Reid to be a technical analyst. Having proudly achieved three PhDs, he could appreciate the detailed mathematics of coding and was exceedingly proficient at programming, yet he still found himself wary of the many risks technology could pose. For this reason, he stuck to reading books and playing chess in his spare time, rather than playing video games or 'surfing the web' as the kids say.

Being a technical analyst never was his dream, if he ever even had one. Seemingly out of nowhere, he happened upon the job while writing his thesis at Caltech, where he had attended university. His professor, who happened to have connections with the FBI, was so impressed by the high specification file organisation system he designed that he had recommended him for the job. Happy to have a source of steady income, Spencer gladly accepted the offer and had been in Quantico ever since.

Penelope Garcia, on the other hand, had always been an avid technophile. Although, as a warm-spirited charismatic woman who easily made friends and enjoyed gossiping with others, she didn't exactly fit the technical analyst stereotype either. Perhaps this was what made the pair such good friends, despite their differences.

Like her young genius friend, she had also studied at Caltech. It was this piece of common ground that had first bonded them when they began working together. At first, as he was with most people, Spencer was timid and noticeably awkward but found himself quickly warming up to his new friend and became more comfortable as they got to know each other. 

Now he couldn’t imagine life without her.

"Morning, Doctor Reid," Garcia said in her usual cheery tone as she sat down at her desk to enjoy the muffin and cup of coffee that Spencer had brought for her, as he did every day without fail.

"Good morning," Spencer replied sleepily, slowly taking another sip of his own steaming coffee.

"Someone's tired this morning," she noticed, "rough night?"

He pursed his lips, pausing for a moment as if trying to think of an appropriate response. He sighed, "You could say so," to which Garcia nodded knowingly, although not wanting to press the issue.

For a few minutes, they sat in comfortable silence, each steadily slurping their drinks and starting up their computers, ready for the long day ahead of them. Suddenly, Spencer's phone gave an ear-splitting ping from inside his brown leather bag, indicating he had received a message.

"Ooohhh, someone has a message," Garcia teased, "a secret lover perhaps?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. Usually, Garcia was the only person who texted him as he had few people in his contacts. In fact, his current phone - a smartphone - was a birthday present from her, after she insisted he stop using his battered old flip phone and ‘upgrade to the twenty-first century’. 

On the rare occasion that Garcia wasn’t texting him, it would only be his landlord or his boss - the necessary contacts. Taking his phone out of his bag, he tapped on the screen curiously, reading the message in one brief glance, "Nope, just my data company," he chuckled softly.

Garcia sighed, "Maybe one day I'll be right."

“Somehow I just don’t see it,” Spencer said, stating it as if it were a fact, causing Garcia to slap him firmly on his exposed forearm. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Don’t put yourself down like that, Spence!” she exclaimed, almost sounding hurt, “any man would be lucky to be with you.”

Garcia was the only person who knew about Spencer’s sexuality and had accepted him with open arms. It wasn’t like he was ashamed, he just preferred to tell people on a need-to-know basis if he could help it. As far as he was concerned it wasn’t really anyone else’s business anyway.

“Have you tried any of the apps I suggested? I’m sure you could find someone if you wanted too,” Garcia paused, “Just consider it - especially since I’m moving departments next week, I don’t want you to miss me too much.” 

Spencer flashed her a sad but genuine smile, “I’ll think about it.”

And he did. Admittedly, he would be lonely without Garcia. She was always happy to listen to him ramble about his special interests and spew facts and statistics to his heart’s content, not once complaining. After all, they were best friends and he was lucky to have someone as understanding and as caring as her.

However, he still had his grievances about social media; these days there was no way to know who was stealing your data or if people truly are who they say they are. Regardless, maybe it was worth a try just this once. He had nothing to lose.

After a tedious day at work, Spencer ripped off his coat and practically leapt onto the couch, stretching his legs out like a cat before curling up into foetal position and making himself comfortable. Soaking up the sweet sound of silence, he lay there for a while, resting his eyes peacefully and recovering from his day at work. Mentally going through the day’s events as he always did, Garcia’s voice kept echoing in his head like a broken record.

Should he really give Tinder a try?

Reluctantly, he slid his phone out of his pocket and began downloading the app, nibbling on his lower lip nervously as he waited. It wasn’t too late to turn back … but no. He had to at least try, if not for him then for Penelope.

Opening the app, he began to meticulously craft his profile. If he could control exactly what other people saw then he was safe from their judgement. He could hide behind the screen like it was a mask, carefully planning every message to ensure nobody would know his true self. No one would want to talk to him if they really knew him, or at least so Spencer thought.

Instead of using his first name, he settled on his middle name - Isaac - just in case anyone tried to steal his identity or something. Happy so far, he added some subtle pictures of himself, ensuring he never fully showed his face. Satisfied with his work, he finalised his profile and saved it. Maybe this could actually work.

Finally, he began swiping. Spencer didn’t know if he had ‘a type’ but if he did then most of these men weren’t it. Left swipe after left swipe, he discarded most of the men he saw, deciding they were either a bit dodgy or just looking for sex. But then he paused for a moment, squinting to read the profile that had just popped up on his screen.

Derek, 32

Tall and muscular, he had smooth chocolate skin and straight white teeth that looked as if they’d glimmer in the sun. He oozed confidence, yet didn’t seem too narcissistic. His bio was a terrible (but funny) pick up line and he clarified that he was ‘looking for something casual or just to make friends’. Spencer needed friends.

Intrigued, he swiped right.

It’s a Match!

Spencer almost dropped his phone, shocked yet excited that someone like Derek could genuinely be interested in him too. Scrambling to catch his phone, he composed himself, sitting up straight on the couch.

Almost instantly, his phone lit up with a new notification.

**(1) Message from Derek**

_Derek: Hey mystery man ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Derek: Hey mystery man ;)_

Spencer blinked, staring blankly at the screen, reading the message over and over in his head. Running his fingers through his hair repeatedly, he racked his brain trying to think of an appropriate response. 

What if he embarrassed himself? What if Derek decided he didn’t want to talk to him anymore? 

Panicking for a moment, his anxieties filling him up like a balloon on the verge of bursting, he reminded himself that he was probably just getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t even said anything yet. 

After nervously typing and deleting messages for several minutes, he finally settled on a simple greeting.

_Isaac: Hello_

Almost instantly, Derek responded. It seemed like he didn’t have the same struggles with communication Spencer did.

_Derek: What’s a cutie like you doing all alone?_

Cutie? Spencer blushed slightly, although it didn’t occur to him that Derek was purposefully trying to flirt with him. None of the pictures on his profile even directly showed his face.

_Isaac: How do you know I’m cute? You haven’t even seen my face._

_Derek: I can just tell_

In Spencer’s mind this didn’t make sense, how could he make such a bold assumption with virtually no evidence to back up his claim? It was highly illogical.

_Derek: Sooo… what are you up to right now?_

Nothing interesting, Spencer responded mentally. Not that he could actually say that, in fear of being considered boring. He glanced around his living room, searching for some kind of inspiration. In the corner, there were several tall tightly-packed wooden bookshelves which were practically overflowing with different books in various languages, all of which he had read. 

On either side of his couch, he had stacks upon stacks of large cardboard boxes filled to the brim with case files, a mixture of old ones from the BAU and police cold cases. Although he was merely a technical analyst, he enjoyed solving them (or attempting to) in his spare time and fitting together the pieces of information in his head as though they were puzzles. 

Spencer was almost ravenous for a challenge - something to occupy his mind and really get the gears in his brain going. But, as someone with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, this was a rare occurrence. Working on these cases was the only way he ever found himself truly satisfied. Especially if he checked the BAU records and found he was correct. In Spencer’s opinion, there was truly no greater feeling.

Working as a technical analyst, he was often presented with the same problems day in and day out. Although he enjoyed the routine of it, sometimes it was as if he was on autopilot - his body completing the tasks he was assigned while his inner consciousness drifted away into alternate realities.

Finding himself lost in thought, as he usually seemed to be, Spencer realised he still hadn’t answered Derek’s question.

_Isaac: Not much, just reading a book._

He quickly improvised his response, playing along with the false scenario he had created and grabbing an open book off the coffee table in front of him. 

_Derek: Ooo, cute and a nerd? I like it ;)_

Unable to tell whether or not he was joking, Spencer deflected Derek’s attempt to flirt once again.

_Isaac: What makes you think I’m a nerd?_

_Derek: … What book are you reading?_

Spencer peered at the book settled in his lap, examining the title.

_Isaac: ‘A Brief History Of Time’ by Stephen Hawking, it’s fascinating actually._

It was true - since he was only 8 years old, Spencer had admired Hawking’s work. In only a few weeks, he had read all of his books and learnt all there was to possibly know about black holes, time and the like. Even today, it still interested him greatly, especially now he had PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering. He supposed it was one of the few special interests he would never be able to shake. 

_Derek: So my point is proven then - you’re a nerd._

_Isaac: Fine - I’m a nerd._

He gave in, admitting Derek was right. Hopefully he’d still want to talk to him, Spencer didn’t want Derek to think he was just a weird know-it-all or some kind of ‘freak’ like others had told him he was his entire life.

_Derek: So, nerd, what do you do?_

_Isaac: I’m a technical analyst, so being a nerd is essentially my profession._

He purposefully left out where and who he worked for, once again reminding himself that people on the internet couldn’t be trusted. 

_Derek: Why does that not surprise me?_

_Isaac: I guess I’m just that predictable._

_Isaac: So, what do you do then?_

_Derek: I work for the government in law enforcement._

Huh… not exactly what he’d expected. Technically, there were many different branches of government law enforcement he could be talking about but, as stupid as it was, a small part of Spencer was left to wonder - could he work for the FBI too?

Statistically, it was highly improbable, yet the thought still lingered in his mind.

_Isaac: Oh, wow, that sounds dangerous._

And with that seconds turned into minutes which, before they knew it, turned into hours. Both of them had been so lost in conversation they hadn’t even realised what time it was. 

For the first time in hours, Spencer peeked up from his phone screen, his eyes taking a second to adjust to the darkness that engulfed him. Looking around his living room, he glanced towards the window, noticing it was suddenly pitch black outside. He peered at his watch closely, the time read 12:07am. 

He let out a heavy sigh... he should probably be asleep by now. Not that he ever was at this time - he drank so much coffee that it was rare for him to feel tired. 

_Derek: Damn I’ve only just noticed the time, I’m gonna head to bed now - long day tomorrow_

_Derek: Sweet dreams my favourite genius x_

For a brief moment, Spencer contemplated going to bed too, although in reality he knew he’d only end up staring blankly at the ceiling listening to the minutes tick by, waiting for the sun to come up. 

So, that night he stayed awake. Replaying his conversation with Derek in his head so many times he lost count. Unexpectedly, he had enjoyed talking to him. Despite his cocky demeanor, Derek was funny, kind and didn’t care that Spencer was a nerd - in fact, he encouraged it. 

Hopefully this wasn’t all too good to be true.

************************************************************************************

Two weeks later, Spencer and Derek had been talking almost every day. Although he felt much more comfortable on Tinder now, Spencer still preferred to keep his identity a mystery. Working for the FBI and all it was probably for the best. People couldn’t be trusted. 

That said, Spencer was glad Garcia had encouraged him to expand his circle (if you could call one person a circle) of friends, especially now he was alone in the office they used to share, empty silence eating away at him.

Admittedly, the sudden change in routine had made Spencer uncomfortable, but he was proud of his best friend. He knew deep down transferring to the BAU was what was best for her; the decision wasn’t up to him anyway.

However, if he was going to decide to be happy for her that didn’t mean he had to let her go completely. It was practically his duty to provide her with her daily delivery of coffee and a muffin. After all, the Behavioural Analysis Unit was only two floors up from ~~their~~ his office.

In the past few days, he’d been making it a habit to visit his friend more regularly, although not wanting to intrude too much.

Now, two steaming cups of coffee in hand, he entered the large FBI building. As it was still early, there were few people about, only a tall dark-haired man wearing a suit who made his way over to the elevators. 

Although he resided on the seventh floor, Spencer had always insisted on taking the stairs in order to stay fit, often frustrating Garcia. However, as he often reminded her, on average you burn 0.17 calories for every step you climb. And there were a lot of stairs.

Eventually reaching the ninth floor - Garcia’s new domain - he exited the stairwell, for once remembering to pull the door rather than pushing it.

Knowing where Garcia’s office was by now, he turned down the hallway to his left, still grasping their coffees as he walked. When he entered, Garcia was sitting on one of two brightly coloured bean bags, absorbed by whatever new game she was undoubtedly playing on her phone.

In true Garcia fashion, she had decorated her office with a variety of vibrant colours and patterns. Her desk was littered with small knick-knacks and toys and she had a shelf with an impressive collection of Pop! figures that Spencer had always marvelled at. 

On the wall beside her desk he noticed that she had hung a large cork board filled with polaroids since he last visited. As Spencer looked at them, eyes drifting over each picture, he realised that most of them were of him and Garcia. 

Staring at the collection of memories laid out in front of him, he recalled many fond memories of their regular coffee shop trips and the time they had lunch at a diner and Garcia had convinced him to get a milkshake, even though Spencer had rambled on about how studies have shown drinking too many milkshakes can damage your blood vessels (due to the high amounts of fat they contain). Although, despite that, he will admit he enjoyed it very much.

He grinned, feeling his heart warm with adoration for his friend. He was so lucky to have her.

“Knock knock,” Spencer said aloud while also actually knocking on her open door, a grin still plastered on his face.

Instantly looking up from her phone, Garcia practically tackled Spencer as she hugged him, almost causing him to drop their coffees.

“Woah, slow down, you haven’t even had your coffee yet!” 

“I’m sorryyyy,” she moaned, “I just missed you.”

Spencer chuckled, “you saw me yesterday, remember?”

“I know but I miss having you around all day, it gets lonely in here,” she pouted.

“I know the feeling… I miss you too,” he mumbled, nestling his head into the crook of her neck.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their voice loudly from behind him.

Pulling away from Garcia quickly, not wanting any of her colleagues to come to any false conclusions about what might’ve been happening, he spun around.

Holding his breath, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, Spencer had to restrain from audibly gasping.

There, right in front of him, was an all too familiar chocolate-skinned man who was smirking teasingly at them, even more handsome in real life than he was online. 

The gaze of deep brown eyes seemed to burn into Spencer’s skin as he looked the skinny genius in front of him up and down inquisitively.

Realising he was staring at him, Spencer blinked and looked down at the carpet, trying to hide both his disbelief and the fact that he was now blushing furiously.

“So, this is the pretty boy I’ve been hearing so much about?”


	3. Chapter 3

“So, this is the pretty boy I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Spencer stood planted to the ground, his eyes wide with shock. His face flushed a deep shade of red, the aggressive heat burning against his cheeks. Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, he could feel the sweat sticking to his collar as he stared at the carpet uncomfortably, purposefully avoiding eye contact. 

‘Pretty boy’ 

The new nickname rang around his head, only causing him to blush more until he looked like a ripe tomato. He hoped it was meant as a compliment, although he couldn’t help but wonder whether Derek was mocking him for his more ‘feminine’ features, much like the older boys at school used to - one of the many downsides of graduating high school aged 12. 

Compliment or insult, he couldn’t help but wonder if Derek recognised him from Tinder too. On the surface, he showed no sign of shock or surprise but maybe he was just good at hiding it? Spencer thought he had concealed his identity well enough but maybe he wasn’t as careful as he had previously thought.

Garcia giggled, “You know it, babe. I think it’s time you two officially met,”

“Spencer, this is Derek Morgan - but everyone calls him by his last name,” she introduced them, unaware Spencer already knew full well who was standing in front of him, “Morgan - this is Spencer.”

Derek offered out his hand, expecting Spencer to shake it, to which Spencer just smiled awkwardly and gave him a slight wave.

“Oh! - I should’ve told you - Spencer doesn’t shake hands,” 

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering, in fact it’s actually much safer to kiss!” Spencer blurted enthusiastically, never missing an opportunity to infodump. 

His words catching up with him, his mind began to wander. Subconsciously, he bit his lower lip, brushing his hair out of his face as he imagined kissing Morgan and how his lips would feel against his own.

Catching himself in a daydream, he came back into reality, taking another sip of his coffee so as to not seem suspicious, as well as to try and mask the heat seeping back into his cheeks. Avoiding eye contact yet again, he simply stared into the bottom of his cup, hoping no one had noticed.

Morgan nodded, seemingly making a mental note of this information, “Ok, well it was nice to meet you, Spencer,” he said with a quick smile before heading off down the corridor.

The moment Morgan leaves the room Garcia bursts into a fit of child-like giggles, prodding Spencer on the arm teasingly.

“What?” Spencer furrowed his brow, rubbing his arm simultaneously.

“You’re bright red,” she smirks knowingly.

“And? It’s hot in here, do you not have air conditioning?” he deflected, brushing off Garcia’s observation.

“Why does he call me ‘pretty boy’ anyway? Who came up with that?”

“I don’t know, I guess he came up with it himself. Maybe he likes you,” Garcia continued to tease.

“Shut uuuup,” Spencer whined, understanding what she was trying to insinuate, “I do not like Morgan!”

“I never said you did,” she winked, to which Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Besides, I don’t even know the man. He doesn’t seem like the type to find guys pretty anyway,” he added.

The two continued to bicker, teasing each other as per usual, laughing hysterically over silly inside jokes from over the years. 

Outside the doorway, unbeknownst to them, Morgan was lingering, checking a text from Hotch (his boss) on his phone. Having overheard the conversation, he smirked at Spencer’s obvious embarrassment before heading down the corridor back to the bullpen. 

Hearing the clicking of Morgan’s shoes walking away from the office, Spencer and Garcia shared a look. Yikes. He had definitely been eavesdropping on their conversation. 

At once, Garcia burst into a fit of giggles to the point where Spencer, who was even redder now, couldn’t decipher whether she was laughing or crying. 

“... Do you think he heard any of that?” Spencer asked tentatively, although he already knew the answer.

“Definitely.” his friend winked.

Cringing at Garcia’s honest response, he flopped down onto a sapphire-coloured bean bag in the corner of her office, resulting in what was left of his coffee sloshing around in his cup and dripping onto his trousers. Spencer groaned loudly, staring down at the stain. Rubbing his palm against his trousers, he tried to wipe the mess away, causing the wet patch to spread.

Thank God Spencer was wearing dark trousers that day.

Laughing at him, Garcia passed him a tissue to soak up his unfortunate spillage. 

“When I said I liked the smell of coffee, this wasn’t what I meant,” Spencer pouted, staring up at his friend imploringly.

“Joking now, huh? I like it. But I can’t help you with that, sweetcheeks,” she paused for a moment, “Buuuut, I know what I can do!”

Garcia slipped her phone out of her pocket, shuffling her pop playlist. It was barely ten seconds in before Spencer began to complain.

“Ugh, what is this?” Spencer screwed up his nose in disgust, looking as if he had just smelt something foul. Garcia often tried to play modern music for him, telling him he needed to keep up with the times. Each and every time, Spencer would complain before a song had even made it to half a minute.

Could you blame him? Spencer detested the false sounding, autotuned dulcet tones that always seemed to come from Garcia’s phone speakers. He much preferred calmer, slower music. At least piano music wouldn’t threaten his ears with angry noises. Spencer _hated_ obnoxiously loud music. 

“This, mon ami, is Beyoncé. She’s from Destiny’s Child, the _iconic_ girl group.” Garcia said proudly, bopping along to the music.

“You actually listen to this stuff?” Spencer questioned her judgmentally, still seeming unimpressed. He debated whether he should make a show of plugging his ears just to show his friend how much he disliked the music she was playing for him. 

“And you don’t? We don’t all listen to classical music you know, someone has to culture you.”

Mentally running through some nice, soothing piano music in his head, Spencer finished the last few drops of coffee that hadn’t made it out of the cup and onto his pants. He was definitely going to make himself another cup as soon as he could, with a good amount of sugar. 

Spencer had a bit of a sweet tooth, but could you blame him? It wasn’t his fault that sugary things tasted that good. Once Spencer was finished with his muffin, he threw the wrapper and the empty coffee cup into the bin as the song continued to play in the background.

For a while they chatted, Garcia asked him how his Tinder search was going to which Spencer brushed her off, simply saying there had been ‘mixed results’ so far. Of course, in true Garcia fashion she tried to pry further, thirsty for some gossip, but Spencer refused to entertain her. 

Fifteen minutes later, an ear-splitting ringing sound erupted from Garcia’s computer. Instantly, she hopped up from her bean bag and onto the spinny chair at her desk, tapping her keyboard with her fluffy pink pen to accept the incoming call from her team.

Taking this as his cue to leave, Spencer cautiously stood up, creeping towards the door to leave. Giving Garcia a quick wave, he headed out of her office and back down the stairs to his own floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the long awaited update is finally here!! sorry it took so long, but we sincerely hope that you guys enjoyed reading it!! quarantine sure is hectic, huh? chapter 4 is coming soon! pinky promise :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii sorry this took longer than expected that's my (freya's) fault oops. regardless, we hope you enjoy this chapter :) thank you so much for all the support so far and 100 kudos! we really appreciate it. mwah.

When Spencer first arrived, he was greeted cheerily by his coworkers, who threw him a few teasing comments about his still obviously red face. Spencer brushed them off, claiming he was just hot under all the layers of clothing he was wearing, although this didn’t seem to fool anyone. At least they hadn’t made any comments about the wet patch which was still lingering on his pants. 

Settling back into his own office, Spencer collapsed into his chair, reluctant to begin his work. Fortunately, as a genius with the ability to read up to 20,000 words per minute, it didn’t take him long before he had completed his assignments for the day. As he had designed and programmed all his computer software himself, he was extremely comfortable with the system and navigated all the tasks required of him with ease.

Once he was finished, he leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply to himself. There was still an hour or so before his shift ended. He had already been back and forth to the break room a few times, refilling his mug of coffee throughout the day to keep him going. Still buzzing from his last dose of caffeine, he figured he probably didn’t need any more just yet.

Deciding to go and pay Garcia another visit, he made another journey up the two flights of stairs to her office. Timidly knocking on her door while still windedly trying to catch his breath, he hoped he wasn’t intruding; according to her schedule (which Spencer had memorised) she wasn’t on her lunch break yet either.

“Come in!” she exclaimed, eyes still glued to the screen in front of her.

Shuffling into the room and quietly shutting the door behind him, Spencer moved his way towards the bean bags and sat down where he had been earlier. Finishing whatever she was working on, Garcia swivelled her chair around to face him.

“What’s up? Why the long face?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just bored,” Spencer groaned, partially telling the truth.

Having worked with him for several years, Garcia was well-accustomed to seeing him like this. Back when they shared an office Spencer used to speed through his work before Garcia herself was even halfway done. Since he was a genius with a constant need for intellectual stimulation, Garcia remembered him working on old BAU cases during times like this - his affinity for puzzles easily allowing him to piece together the information like a jigsaw in order to determine what happened. He was good at it too, often managing to pick out the guilty suspect from within the files. 

Although he had no formal training, Garcia suspected he would make a good profiler, especially now she was working at the BAU and had observed their work up close. Despite the fact Spencer wasn’t the most empathetic of people (or at least not in a conventional way), he was unrivaled in his ability to spot patterns and was able to instantly connect the dots in his mind. He felt his emotions deeply, perhaps even deeper than others, but it was always a struggle for him to translate them into words. Luckily, knowing Spencer as well as Garcia did, she understood. 

“Been working on any new cases lately?” she inquired, hoping that might perk him up.

At the mention of the cases his eyes lit up and he sat up straight, beginning to ramble eagerly about a particular cold case he found fascinating. Excitedly, he detailed to her a string of murders in Oregon back in the 80s, explaining to her all the elements of the case and presenting his own theories along the way - all supported with facts and statistics, of course.

Seeing his clear enthusiasm, Garcia thought back to the case she was currently working on. After cross-checking small business owners in the suburbs of Salt Lake City with people in the area who had been recently discharged from mental facilities, she had come up blank. Although she wasn’t supposed to disclose the details of the case to anyone outside the BAU, she was starting to think that maybe Spencer could help them.

“Hey, Spence-” she interrupted him, “Could you take a look at this for me? Do you notice any patterns between these victims? I know you’re good at stuff like that.”

Handing him a file with pictures and a few details about each victim, she watched as he surveyed each one, witnessing the cogs turning inside his mind. Suddenly, an alert appeared on her computer screen, redirecting her attention.

“Hey babygirl,” Morgan’s smooth voice drifted through her speakers.

“What can I do for you, chocolate thunder?” she smirked, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

“I need a list of all the staff working at Salt Lake Community Pool the night of the murder,” he explained, “Lifeguards, janitors, et cetera - anyone who could’ve had access to the pool that night.”

“Coming right up baby,” she said as she began to type vigorously, using her own self-built software to gather data.

“Uh… hey, Garcia?” Spencer whispered, just as she was about to end the call. Stopping what she was doing, she took her hands off of her keyboard and spun her chair around to face him, interested in what he had to say.

“Take a look at this,” he passed her the crime scene photos, gesturing towards the 3 stab wounds on each victim’s chest, “I don’t think these are just the unsub’s signature. These murders could be connected to Roman mythology, more specifically the water god, Neptune. He was known for his violent temperament.”

Recognising Garcia’s obvious confusion, he began to explain, “One of the main symbols of Neptune was his infamous three-pronged trident which could be why the unsub chose to stab them three times even after he’d already drowned them. It’s symbolic - he’s warning others not to intrude on his terrain.”

“Huh,” Morgan sounded stunned, “not half bad, pretty boy.”

Once again, Spencer felt his face flush at the mention of the nickname, glad Morgan wasn’t around to see it this time. However, he could tell by Garcia’s muffled laughter that she had noticed his reaction.

“Who is that?” Spencer heard a second, quieter and more distant, voice on the call.

“Sir this is Dr. Spencer Reid, one of my old colleagues,” Garcia jumped in, “Spencer, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, our unit chief.”

“O-oh,” Spencer faltered, eyes wide, “Pleasure to meet yo- to hear from you, sir.”

“Likewise,” he said, ignoring the fact that Spencer wasn’t supposed to be visiting Garcia during her work hours (much to his relief). 

“Send me that list, babygirl,” Morgan reminded her, before ending the call.

The minute Spencer was sure he and Garcia were alone, he threw one of Garcia’s fluffy pens at her.

“Hey!” she yelped.

“What have you been telling Morgan about me? Why does he keep using that nickname?” he demanded.

“Nothing, nothing!! I’ve only mentioned you a couple of times, promise!” Garcia insisted, although Spencer was still doubtful.

“Mhm, whatever you say,” he rolled his eyes sarcastically before changing the subject, not wanting Garcia to tease him again. “Anyway, let me know if what I said earlier was helpful, I hope I didn’t get you in any trouble by being here.”

Shortly after, he said farewell to his friend once again, worried his continuous presence could get Garcia into even more potential trouble. 

For the rest of the day he sat in his office, counting the seconds until he could go home. Since he had no more work to complete, he skimmed through a few books, soaking up the information like a sponge. When he was done he found himself bored once again. Not to sound arrogant, but being a genius could often be dull, knowing so much meant there were few things that were completely new and exciting to Spencer.

Well, maybe there was one thing. Or, rather, one person. Derek Morgan. Whatever Spencer did, his mind always seemed to drift back to Derek. The feeling of his eyes on him, the deep gravelly tone of his voice, his dazzling white smile. The nickname he used for him - ‘pretty boy’. He focused on that the most. 

Spencer continued to think about it all day, even moreso now he had no work to distract him from what was clearly lingering on his mind. He thought about it on the bus ride home, and when he was making dinner. Even when he was reading through his casefiles at night, until he was distracted by his phone lighting up like a christmas tree with a new notification from Tinder.

_Derek: Hey, you up?_

It was quarter past midnight and, as usual, Spencer lay awake on his back watching the hours pass. Glancing at the half-empty bottle of sleeping pills next to his glass of water on his bedside table, he pondered whether or not to take one. A few months ago he had been prescribed sonata due to his severe insomnia and frequent intense nightmares - knowing the risks and potential side effects, he usually avoided taking them unless it was absolutely necessary but today he found himself more tempted than he normally was.

_Isaac: Yes, I can’t sleep. Why are you awake?_

Thankful Derek had distracted him, he swiftly shoved the pills into a drawer and slammed it shut so that he wouldn’t cave in to his impulses. Returning his attention back to his phone, he wondered why Derek was still awake too - surely he was tired from working on the case? 

_Derek: Eh, just thinking I guess._

Spencer was unsure exactly what he meant by this. When he had met Derek earlier he was convinced he had displayed no signs of recognition but now he was beginning to wonder if he was wrong. He gulped, a deep feeling of dread seeping through him. Maybe Derek knew.

_Isaac: Oh.. Is something wrong?_

_Derek is typing..._

Feeling his nerves rising, his leg began to bounce up and down on its own accord as he anxiously anticipated the message. 

_Derek: Nah, it’s all good. I’m just tired._

Somehow Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t entirely true.

_Isaac: Then you should get some rest._

_Derek: But I’d rather be talking to you._

As always seemed to happen whenever Derek Morgan was around, a wave of heat spread across Spencer’s cheeks. 

_Isaac: Oh, thank you. I’m flattered. I enjoy talking to you too, though you should really try to relax._

For a few minutes the chat went silent and Spencer began to wonder whether he’d actually listened to his guidance and gone to sleep.

_Derek: Can I see what you look like?_

His heart rate taking a sudden spike, Spencer almost spat out his water in sheer terror. What was he supposed to say? Of course, he didn’t want Morgan to think he was some creepy old man but he couldn’t send an actual picture of himself either. He was in too deep now.

_Isaac: I’m sorry, I don’t feel comfortable with that._

_Derek: Ok, I understand. Could you describe yourself then?_

Spencer squirmed uncomfortably, rolling over onto his right side, eyes still glued to his phone. He wasn’t asking for much but the thought of Derek uncovering his true identity made him anxious, especially since he was fully aware he was talking to a profiler. But, at the same time, he would probably be making himself look even more suspicious if he declined. Or worse, Derek would think that he was talking to a catfish.

_Isaac: Okay, I suppose I could do that._

Lifting himself out of bed, Spencer examined himself in the long mirror hanging from the side of his wardrobe. Most of the time he didn’t care much for his appearance- yet now he was vastly aware of his reflection, his scars and insecurities jumping out at him. Despite the fact Derek couldn’t see him, he smoothed over his appearance, trying to flatten his curls which were sticking out in various directions. 

_Isaac: I have perpetually messy light-ish brown hair that goes just past my ears which my Mom always complains it’s too long. I’m skinny and almost freakishly tall. There are always heavy dark circles under my eyes (which are brown like my hair) and I look like I haven’t slept, which to be fair is usually an accurate assumption. Most days, I dress for comfort and others often tell me that my fashion sense is antiquated, although it doesn’t really matter to me._

That seemed like a fair description. Accurate, yet not overly revealing. It was kind of long, but it wasn’t terribly short. Hopefully it would be good enough for Morgan.

But, out of all the potential scenarios he had predicted and acted out in his head, Spencer hadn’t even considered what Morgan said to him next.

His mouth turning dry, he reread the message, ensuring his eyes weren’t deceiving him. But no. The message was there and Spencer could feel his pulse quickening in panic.

_Derek: I want to meet you._

**Author's Note:**

> if you're looking for more things to read: i present to you
> 
> Coffees and Keychains (Coffee shops, sweaters, cufflinks, what more could you want? Stay tuned for more!) https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852176


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